


too late

by justasuperfan



Series: everything i didn’t say [10]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Also he gets a hug, Five finally admits he’s not okay, Gen, Good Sibling Allison Hargreeves, I LOVED season 2!!, I had to write about this scene because it killed me, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, Number Five | The Boy-centric, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25700134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justasuperfan/pseuds/justasuperfan
Summary: SEASON 2 SPOILERS“Are you okay?”He was done pretending. It was too hard.“No.”(I’m sorry for more five whump but this old man has suffered so much and hardly anyone acknowledges it, so I had to write this)
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy & Allison Hargreeves
Series: everything i didn’t say [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1841560
Comments: 10
Kudos: 341





	too late

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so sorry for not updaing lately, it’s been hard. i’ll be updating reset the clock sporadically and it won’t be that long. sorry for more five-centric and whump, i have an actual problem.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: ptsd, mentions of throwing up, eating disorders, traumatic events

Apocalypse. Doomsday. Explosions. Gunshots. 

It had been hard enough dealing with the constant flashbacks and nightmares from his time in the depressing wasteland and the blood seeping from his victims’ bodies, but now he had to deal with a whole new type of trauma. Every time he saw his siblings, his brain flashed him back to the three times he had watched them die. The ash coating their bodies. The explosion that blew them to bits and destroyed the world. The gunshots that blew their brains out of their heads.

He stopped sleeping. It helped with the nightmares. He started drinking more and more, ignoring Allison’s frequent warnings that his child body couldn’t take as much as his adult one could. He barely left his room at the academy, even as his siblings moved back to their own houses one by one. Except for Luther of course, and Klaus (who was homeless), and Allison (who didn’t want to leave Luther yet.) No one tried talking to him. They knew how much he’d seen, but they didn’t know how many times he’d seen their lifeless eyes, how much pain he’d felt…

He told himself it was temporary, it was fake. He didn’t have PTSD. He didn’t have flashbacks.

It was hard to ignore the frequent poison that flooded his mind, or the stabbing pain he felt in his chest from where the Handler had shot him. He stopped teleporting. He stopped time travelling in seconds to practice building his power. He stopped everything except the basic necessities. He didn’t need to do anything else. He didn’t need to eat, or sleep, or talk to anyone except himself.

Five was completely fine.

Except the first time he went downstairs since Vanya went back to living in her apartment, all hell broke loose.

It was quiet. He grabbed the bottle of vodka off the counter and flopped back on the couch to close his eyes for just a minute. When he opened his eyes, Allison strode into the room and laid down on the other couch, watching him. “Finally decided to leave your room, huh old man?”

She was staring at him, her mouth slightly open, her eyes blank. He knew she was just tired, but his body didn’t understand his own thoughts. Because she looked exactly like she had that day, when the blood seeped from the hole in her head and she laid on the hay. Dead.

His chest suddenly burned with the pain of a thousand needles. His hand reached up automatically to stop the bleeding that he knew was seeping through his stupid uniform. It hurt. God, it hurt. His breathing became uncontrolled and rapid as he fought to keep the blood inside his body. He squeezed his eyes shut and when he opened them, there she was. The Handler. Standing over him with that wicked grin, the barrel of her gun pointed at his head.

_“Oh good, you’re alive. Now you can see how this all plays out.”_

They were all dead. Again. He could never stop it. They would always fucking _die_ and he couldn’t do a single thing about it. Over and over and over…

He screamed as loud as he possibly could.

“Woah woah woah, Five, hey, are you okay?”

No no no no no no no.

“Klaus! Luther! _Help!_ ”

He would always fail, they would always die, the Handler would always win and it hurt so much. It was over, he was gone, he lost again, his dad was right. He should’ve never left. He should’ve stayed, and none of this would’ve happened. He. Should. Have. Stayed.

“Ohhhhhh shit.” 

Was that...Klaus? No, he saw his brother’s body near him, his brains leaking from the bullet wound. Five screamed again and realized he had never stopped screaming because it had never stopped hurting. Every time he did anything, it always ended in death death death. Gunshots and explosions and death.

“Wherever you are, Five, you’re not there. You’re here with your family. Goddammit wake up!”

His eyes snapped open and he was still screaming. His hand burned where he had it on his chest, pressing down so hard for so long. But he wasn’t in the barn with bullet holes littering the walls. He was home. He was on the couch. And three of his siblings were standing over him, looking horrified. 

Five’s breathing was still way too fast, but he didn’t think he could slow it down. It had been terrifying to know the only way to save everyone was his fleeting abilities. And he had to do it over and over again. He had to keep practicing, and he could save them. So he blinked up to his room and fell against his wall. Tears pricked his eyes.

For the first time in forever, he could finally admit that he wasn’t okay.

The knocking came moments later. It sounded too much like the gunshots that he heard daily. But it was accompanied by his sister’s voice. “Five?! Are you okay?”

He was done pretending. It was too hard. 

He took a breath. And answered.

“No.”

The door swung open. Allison had tears running down her face. But most importantly, she was alone. So Five let her shut the door and rush over to him, grabbing his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! Did I do something? Klaus said you had a flashback?”

It had been so long since he allowed himself to cry. He had forgotten what it felt like. He jolted when the cold tears hit his warm cheeks. “Y-you...died.”

Allison squinted and cocked her head to the side. “In the apocalypse?”

Five shook his head. His sister’s eyes widened. He could pinpoint the exact moment she realized that he had seen his family die more than once. Before he could explain, her arms were around him and she pressed her body against his. And she was so warm and he was so cold.

He hadn’t hugged anyone in about fifty years. 

He wanted the hug to last forever, but when she finally pulled away, he felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Like her hug had stolen everything he ever had to worry about. “Allison.” He whispered. She gave him a look like she hated that he ever had to suffer. He was astounded how much she could communicate with her eyes, which was probably a side effect from years of acting and not being able to talk. 

“The Handler. She shot all of us. I...watched you all die again. Somehow, I survived and time traveled and saved you all.”

“I’m...so sorry. That must have been awful.”

“It was.”

Allison searched him over and he noticed he was still clutching his chest, where he could feel the bullet go in over and over again. She pointed to his hand. “Was that where she shot you?” He nodded. She placed her warm copper hand over his. He took his other hand and placed his finger on the exact spot he watched the bullet enter on her head. Her eyes widened and tears poured down her face again.

“You saved me, Five. You saved all of us.”

“No, I didn’t.”

It had felt good to finally let everything go for once, but it was hard to keep talking about feelings. So many years alone did that to you. But Allison understood. She dragged him downstairs, pried the bottle of vodka from his hands, and replaced it with a bagel. He hadn’t eaten in so long that he’d forgotten what it was like to not be hungry. After the bagel, he ate pretty much everything he could find and hoped it wouldn’t end up in a pile of vomit later.

Allison sat across from him when he finally sat back on the couch. “How did I trigger you?”

He swallowed. “Your blank stare. You looked dead.”

She looked at her hands. “I’m sorry.”

“‘S not your fault.” He suddenly realized how tired he was. “You mind if I…?”

Allison smiled and draped a blanket over him as he laid down. And as he drifted away for the first time in maybe a week, he felt peaceful.


End file.
